Foolproof
by Heero de Fanel
Summary: A short sequel to Birds of a Feather, which has Nicholas getting a visit from Class VII's two ranged specialists and finding out the hard way that when dealing with sufficiently talented fools, there's no such thing.


**Foolproof**

Full disclosure; this was written entirely because it amused me to no end that according to CSII's recipe list two of Thors' smartest students apparently have serious issues making juice, and in my experience… well, whenever smart people screw up the resulting mess is usually something to see.

* * *

"Hello, Nicholas."

The head of the Thors Cooking Club looked up from his stew at the interruption, greeting the two new arrivals with an easy smile. "Alisa and Machias, correct? Well, this is a surprise. What brings two Class VII members my way?"

In retrospect, the wary glances that the archer and gunman sent at each other should have warned him. Live and learn.

"You might say that the two of us are in need of… culinary counseling," Machias started delicately, the bespectacled boy looking and sounding even stiffer than he normally was.

"… That's one way to put it, yeah," Alisa added in next, the blonde looking just as uncomfortable.

"Ah, kitchen troubles. You've certainly come to the right place then! I'd be more than happy to help," Nicholas said with a sage nod, turning down the heat on the burner and looking at the red clad pair expectantly. "What exactly are you two having issues with?"

The next few seconds were a fascinating case study in how to communicate without using words, and it was only his experience with Millium and Margarita that allowed the second year to keep up with the furious exchange of head jerks, nods, glares, and eye-rolling that was taking place in front of him.

"… _You tell him."_

 _"Me? Why should I tell him?"_

 _"I don't wanna tell him! It's embarrassing!"_

 _"Of course it's embarrassing, that's the entire reason we're here!"_

(He supposed that something might have been lost in the translation, but Nicholas was fairly sure he got the gist of it).

Finally, Machias sighed and reached up to adjust his glasses in a reluctant gesture of surrender, his lips set into a grim line.

"… You're familiar with the recipe for Fresh Vegetable Juice, I take it?"

The second year nodded, a nostalgic smile coming to his face. "Of course. It was one of the first recipes I notched under my belt! Not only is it nutritious and filling, it's exceptionally simple to make. Only three ingredients, you know."

Alisa's right eyebrow twitched. "We know."

"All too well," Machias added, the boy barely understandable through his clenched teeth.

The second year's gaze swung to and fro, very sure at this point that he was missing _something_ but unable to figure out what. They were clearly having issues with crafting the drink – he didn't know that was even possible, but Nicholas wasn't one to judge – but still, these kind of reactions seemed to be a little much.

"W-Well, we should probably start at the beginning. What's been going wrong when you're tried to make it before?"

The Class VII pair exchanged another glance before Alisa slowly reached into her satchel and pulled out a cylindrical RF branded container, setting it down in front of him and _oh Goddess no –_

("Hey, look on the bright side. He didn't run away screaming or anything.")

("The day is still young, Alisa.")

Nicholas didn't notice their little byplay, transfixed as he was by the… thing in front of him.

You see, normally Fresh Vegetable Juice was a bright, appealing, vibrant shade of red – one might have even called it happy, had they been inclined to apply that sort of thing to a color.

The liquid he saw in front of him, however, was anything but. The song it sung was not a joyful hymn for the harvest bounty – no, this creation was a harbinger of dark things. Horrible things.

He stared, swearing for a moment that he could see waves in the air around the crimson fluid (which eerily resembled blood but _even worse somehow_ ) and then…

"… D-Did it just bubble?"

Alisa's attempt at a brush-off giggle was valiant, but it wouldn't have fooled anyone with a pair of functioning ears and a pulse. "Uh… maybe?"

"It does that from time to time, yes," Machias confirmed, looking sullen as his eyes zeroed on the tips of his shoes because anyone that met his gaze would immediately know that he had done something **wrong.**

"We don't know why yet, do we?"

"I can only hope that it's not because it's angry."

Meanwhile, the head of the Cooking Club worked his jaw desperately, willing himself to say something. Anything.

"This… this had three ingredients."

The blonde's eyebrow twitched again, and to her credit she somehow managed to keep her smile from turning into a grimace. "No need to repeat yourself."

"Fair enough. Well. Um," Nicholas coughed, trying to get ahold of himself. "T-This is certainly an interesting result – "

"That's not the adjective I'd use, but all right," the gunman muttered, making a face.

"Still, there's no culinary problem that can't be solved with practice!" the second year declared, the prospect of teaching perking him up a little bit. "Before we go any farther, I need to know what you thought of the flavor profile. Was it tangy, sour, salty? Was any one ingredient dominant over the others, or – you're staring at each other again. Why are you staring at each other again?" he asked, really not liking where this was going.

"About that. It's a little… hard to explain in words," Alisa began delicately, reaching into her satchel again.

Machias nodded vigorously, hoping against hope the gesture would keep Nicholas from noticing the archer set a glass down on the table.

Judging by the way the older boy's complexion paled, it did not.

"You'd… you'd best find out for yourself," the bespectacled boy finally said. "Though if you'd rather not, I'm sure we could go to the Student Union and ask Ramsay – "

 _That_ was enough to snap him back to attention, and Nicholas found himself standing ramrod straight, staring at the beverage with a firm look in his eye.

"No, it's all right. I'm curious to see how this concoction of yours turned out, actually."

… All right, that may have been somewhat of a lie, but this was a matter of pride now. He was the head of the Thors Cooking Club, and he'd be damned if he'd allow something like this scare him away. After all, hadn't he already had to endure his share of poor dishes over the years, some of which he himself made in disastrous first attempts at diversifying his recipe book? Of course he had, and what kind of chef would he be if he refused culinary advice to those that needed it?

The blonde took a deep breath, giving him a nod when she unscrewed the top with an unsettling hiss and poured a little into the glass.

Nicholas had to admit, it looked a little less intimidating having been freed from its Reinford manufactured prison. Under the bright lights of the Home Economics room it might have even passed for a genuine example of the real thing, provided that one didn't take a close look. Or smell. Or know anything about cooking.

Goddess, he had a bad feeling about this.

"No time like the present! Bottoms up then?" he asked, putting on a smile he didn't really feel as he picked up the glass and downed it in one smooth motion, and the first thing his tongue met with was –

 _"bitterbitterbitterbitterBITTERBITTERBITTER"_

"… Nicholas?"

"H-Hey, Nicholas? Are you all right?"

 _"How,"_ the second year thought dimly, swallowing the sample despite every ounce of his self-preservation warning him not to, " _how did they manage to do this…?!"_

After what seemed like an eternity later, the boy winced and took a deep breath, shaking his head roughly with the assault on his taste buds having come to an end. Truth be told, while that had been… unpleasant, he supposed it could have been worse. In fact, Nicholas swore that he felt a little bit more energetic, somehow. Maybe had psyched himself out a little bit?

"I-I'll admit that was certainly something!" he began with a shaky chuckle, grinning even as the world around him began to sway and shift, and… what was so bright above him?

Oh, the lights.

"… He doesn't look so good, does he?"

"No. No, he doesn't."

They really were very pretty lights, he mused. Maybe he could see them better if he lay on his back…?

"?!"

"Oh, _no –_ "

 _"Yes,"_ Nicholas decided, giving into the blissful oblivion and thus totally missing the panicking Class VII students having a conniption in the middle of his Home Economics room. _"Let's do that."_

* * *

"… Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd that's why the Cooking Club won't be meeting for a little while!" Millium chirped, her ever-present grin not fading even as Rean's face found his palm with a pained groan.

"I… I have no words," the swordsman said in utter disbelief, and judging from the ominous silence from the rest of Class VII he wasn't exactly alone.

The Ironblood grinned, and Rean could only hope that she was more concerned than she looked. "S'okay, neither did Nicholas! Still, it'll be boring without cooking stuff with him and Margarita, y'know? When he wakes up – "

"Heh. Sure it's gonna be 'when' and not 'if'?" Sara quipped, wearing a smirk that skirted a little too close to evil for anyone's comfort.

"H-He's going to wake up, all right?! Don't be so negative, Instructor!" Alisa borderline shrieked, and beside her Machias groaned, muttering something about potentially being accessories to manslaughter and how he was pretty sure that Instructor Beatrix suspected something because she was _not_ someone you could fool for very long…

"Ehehe. W-Well, at least he's in good hands! That's a positive sign, right?" Emma said, patting Alisa on the shoulder with one hand while giving Machias a squeeze on the arm with the other.

"My, Lady Alisa. You should have told me that you two needed culinary assistance – I would have been more than happy to pass on some knowledge!" Sharon commented next, her smile as enigmatic as ever. "Still, I do have to wonder how things managed to go so awry… after all, the recipe in question has only – "

"If you say 'three ingredients' Sharon, _so help me Aidios –_ "

Crow scoffed, looking up from his Blade match with Gaius to flash them both a smirk. "Yeeeeeah. No offense or anything, but it sounds like you two would have needed a little more than that."

"W-Who asked you?!"

Fie snickered, drawing a chuckle from Crow. "Ouch. Gonna need some Zeram Powder for that one."

"Nicholas probably does too."

"Oh, forget this," Alisa growled, turning on her heel and striding for the door, pausing only to glance back at Machias. "Are you coming?"

"I suppose," the gunman grumbled, drawing a confused look from Emma. "After what just happened, it'd be nice to remind ourselves what we do *well*."

"… So uh, where are they going?" Elliot whispered to the swordsman in an aside as the ranged specialists left with as much dignity as they could muster.

Rean made a face. "Knowing them? To shoot stuff, probably."

* * *

AN: There's a bit of a timeline discrepancy here; the story takes place in CSI, but Fresh Vegetable Juice isn't a recipe until CSII. CSI had Whole Juice, which for some reason Machias was fine with but Alisa was not. Maybe she's just not a juice person, I dunno.

And, as always…

* * *

 **OMAKE**

From the desk of Rean Schwarzer:

 _\- Luckily for the Cooking Club, Nicholas was back on his feet in no time! I don't think he'll want to try any dish that those two tackle ever again, but on the whole things could have been a lot worse._

 _\- I'm still curious where things went wrong. I mean, it's a pretty simple recipe…_

 _\- Also, according to Machias and Alisa, Bitter Juice (they couldn't be bothered to come up with a better name for it, I guess?) is apparently so potent that it counteracts most toxins. I don't want to know how they found that out or why it does what it does, but I'm pretty sure there's irony in there somewhere._


End file.
